


Forgive Us Now for What We've Done

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson feels guilty, F/M, Lance Hunter's Skoulson tendencies, Melinda May's amazing undercover wardrobe, Not Ward friendly, Skye is wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In typical Coulson fashion, he feels horrible for what happened after the memory machine with Skye. In typical Skye fashion, she has no time for his extensive apologies for something that she didn't blame him for in the first place, but she lets him make it up to her. With a totally normal, platonic and casual dinner that doesn't make either of them feel awkward or obvious or anything. </p>
<p>Set after 2x07</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive Us Now for What We've Done

**Author's Note:**

> I think it would be terribly in character for Coulson to feel guilty about shoving Skye to the floor and locking her in Ward's cell, even if it was out of his control. I also think it would be in character for Skye to REALLY want him to realize she is not mad at him. Like at all.

“You want me to what, now?” Skye put down the takeout container she had not-so-delicately stuck a fork into and stared at Coulson. He had caught her so off guard entering the kitchen she was seriously considering adding extra sessions with May. What was he, a ninja? How did someone move so stealthily in a full suit?

Coulson smiled at her kindly, as per usual, but with that hint of regret in his eyes she’d seen too much of lately. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you,” he repeated. 

Skye crossed her arms, and bit back a grin as Coulson did the same, clearly preparing for an argument. “I heard you the first time, but I’m just confused,” she said. “What are you making up for exactly?”

“Skye.” The regret was at the forefront now.

“Nope,” Skye sighed and walked over to the sink, pouring herself a glass of water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Because you _‘making it up to me,’_ would imply that you willfully did something wrong.” She turned back to face him, taking a sip from her glass and raising an eyebrow.

He started to get frustrated now, which was better than melancholy, so she took it as a good sign. “Skye,” he repeated, trying to sound patient, “I’m grateful that you forgive me for-” he paused, noticing that she had opened her mouth to argue, “-that you _understand_ I was not in my right mind when I hurt you,” his face contorted a bit at those last few words, which she wished he hadn’t chosen. 

Yes, he had shoved her. Hard. It had taken her by surprise, otherwise it probably wouldn’t have been too bad. Even then she just had a few scrapes where her wrists and palms hit the floor. But _hurt_ sounded so horrible. To Skye, that implied intent. And she knew, even when he was hopped up on alien juice, Coulson would never hurt her. 

“I’m fine,” Skye said, softening her tone so he knew she wasn’t being flippant. His eyes stared down at the table, not at her face. “Coulson.” He looked up, and the look in his eyes blew her away a bit. He looked miserable, and worried, almost as bad as when he admitted that the carvings weren’t letting him sleep. Like, ever. Skye did not want to relent and make him feel like he had to make up for something he didn’t do, but she wasn’t sure she could handle him looking at her like that any longer.

“Will it make you feel better if I let you ‘make up for it?’” she asked, unable to resist halfhearted air quotes. He looked at her, serious but grateful.

“It would.”

She smiled slightly and he returned the look, as she flopped into her chair at the banged up kitchen table. “Okay, let me think,” she began, honestly trying to think of what task she could give Coulson. She didn’t need to actually be persuaded to forgive him, so it didn’t need to be anything huge, but it was unlikely he would let up if she said something menial like “do my laundry” or “take me off the chore chart for a week.” If he felt this bizarre need to atone, he’d want to do it properly. That’s just who Coulson was. 

He took a seat across from her, seemingly pleased she was giving it some thought. He really was a good man; no matter how much of a cuckoo-bird Raina was, she had that right. All of this kindness was not helping Skye’s “situation,” as she had begun to call it. It wasn’t enough that he was smart, funny, industrious, _and_ old Hollywood handsome, the man just had to be thoughtful and endlessly caring to boot. 

Yes, Skye had a situation. A code blue, batten down the hatches, Phil Coulson situation and she would be lying if she said him approaching her that evening with promises to _“make it up to her”_ hadn’t affected her in a _big_ way. Now he was leaning back in his chair, clearly waiting for her to make a decision. She hoped she hadn’t been staring.

“Calm down director man, I’m thinking.” She sighed, lifting her fork from the now-lukewarm takeout. “Honestly, I can’t think of anything right now, do we have a timeline here?” She took a bite and grimaced, replacing the fork and taking a gulp of water. Maybe they weren’t necessarily “roughing it,” but given the recent events no one had the time or energy to cook and she thought she might never want to touch lo mein again after the past couple of weeks. 

Coulson gave her that little unreadable look he had, where he seemed amused, but meant business at the same time. “I would prefer sooner rather than later, if it’s all the same,” he said, and Skye was relieved that at least the mood had lifted. “What are you eating?” His nose was wrinkled slightly in a face she knew meant disgust and a hint of disappointment in her life choices.

“Sorry Mr. Foodie, we haven’t exactly had time to stop by the farmer’s market lately.” She grinned at him, earning a smile and head tilt in return. _Score._ “Simmons told me you cooked for her when she was undercover, that was nice of you.” The attention now on him, Coulson tried to brush it off.

“It was nothing, no one should live on reheated leftovers doused with sriracha.” He threw in a grimace for good measure. Skye leaned forward, not letting him get a pass.

“No, it meant a lot to her. She told me. She was alone out there, and even just having a sit down meal with a friendly face was huge.” Noting the bashful look on his face, she continued, “Even if it was with the boss man.” Coulson smiled, then looked thoughtful, looking between Skye and the discarded noodles.

“How about dinner?”

***

So maybe it wasn’t entirely appropriate for Phil to ask his subordinate ( _‘post-level system coworker,’_ he clarified,) to dinner, but it made the most sense. Skye truly seemed to be a low-maintenance woman and wouldn’t ask him for anything big, and this way he got to feel like he was actually doing something. First off, he was giving her a meal that wasn’t in a styrofoam or cardboard container, which, big points there in his humble opinion. 

Second was the way Skye had talked about his meal with Simmons. The tone of her voice when describing a real sit down dinner was almost...wistful? While he tried to encourage team unity with shared meal times, the truth was they were running a crazy operation at the Playground, and people were simply on different schedules. Trip, Hunter, Skye, Bobbi and May could be out on missions all hours of the day, and now that she was back in the lab, it wasn’t uncommon for Simmons to be working late into the night without realizing she’d forgotten to eat dinner. Mack and Fitz seemed to have found a groove eating on their own, and while Coulson wanted Fitz to feel comfortable with the group again, he didn’t want to push. And the director himself? He hadn’t exactly been present for “family meals” since they arrived. 

So maybe, technically, he could have gotten away with arranging a team dinner, pulling whatever strings he could to get everyone present. While he knew Skye would like that, he also knew that his pulling away had taken a toll on her. It certainly did on him. Over the past couple of weeks he found himself practically wanting to cry with relief that they were back on good terms. He knew he missed her presence in his office, but he hadn’t realized just how much. Working side by side again, able to bounce ideas off of each other. 

With the director role, Coulson felt like he had taken on this mantle of responsibility he wasn’t ready for, let alone, you know, doing it while convinced he was going insane. Not only did he have to run SHIELD in the moment, he had to prepare it for a future without him. And it seemed like Skye had been dealing with the brunt of it in terms of him being unavailable. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, he had thought, as he picked up a set of cufflinks, then thoughtfully placed them back on the dresser. _No need to go overboard,_ he chided himself. This wasn’t an undercover mission, he was meant to be himself, and Director Coulson dressing up (more so than usual) for dinner with _Agent_ Skye? He wasn’t quite ready to be that exposed and obvious, even if the internal clock counting down to an undefined expiration date was no longer looming over his head. He was Director, and this was his way of making up for causing trouble for one of his agents. 

He paused again in the routine, running a hand over his brow. Who was he kidding, all of the expensive dinners and reassurances from her would never get the image out of his head. Consciously, the whole period of time between the memory machine and seeing the markings in the train set was a giant blur, dotted with sensory clues. Mack restraining him on the table. The knife slicing through his arms. And his hands pushing, _hard,_ against Skye’s flannel covered back. That memory was the strongest, one he could not will away. Not helping matters was the fact that he felt the self-destructive need to watch the tape from the cell, replaying it until May pulled the plug and gave him that look she had perfected. The “I’m not going to waste my time trying to reassure you but you need to stop doing this to yourself” look. Man, she was good at that. 

So maybe this was a waste of everyone’s time. Maybe, even after this dinner is over, he still will not have forgiven himself. Even if Skye’s sweet, caring, just plain _good_ nature didn’t let her be upset with him in the first place. Maybe this was an empty gesture. 

Looking at the clock, Phil mustered all of his resolve. Even if this wouldn’t fix everything, wouldn’t magically make him feel less terrible about hurting _Skye,_ of all people, he was going to try, dammit. Because maybe now more than ever, Skye needed to know that she was worth trying for. 

***

He wouldn’t say the mood at dinner was awkward, because there was no way it could be more awkward than their exit from the Playground. Despite her outfit being covered up by a long, dark wool coat, Skye clearly looked amazing and dressed for a night out. It was a different brand of Skye loveliness, he had thought as they tried as hard as possible to make it less of the cliched dramatic “reveal” before a date. _Because this was not a date. This was a director and his subordinate having an appropriate and perfectly casual meal off site together._

He tried to look at her objectively, keep a cool demeanor as if to say _'Hello Agent Skye, it is a pleasure to see you. Your sensible attire will do well for this platonic and totally normal evening we are about to have._ But it was no use. His detached, amused-while-still-sharp poker face he had spent years developing seemed to flee in her presence. The only way he couldn’t look at her like she was the center of the universe was if he was chastising her or being cold, and he had zero intention of letting that happen again. 

So as she walked over to him, wearing a slightly uncomfortable but happy grin, he just nodded. “Ready to go?”

***

_What the hell, Coulson?_ Skye smiled, trying to not let her annoyance or other inconvenient emotions show. Who did he think he was? No, she appreciated that he seemed to have taken the time to be even more cleaned up than usual (is that possible? Were those _cufflinks?_ ) in his suit, it showed he was taking this seriously, even though she would have grabbed McDonalds if it would make him feel like she would “forgive” him. 

But was the casual lean against Lola really necessary? She was still pretty banged up, since the man refused to let Mack work on her even now, but it was still a compelling image. A handsome guy in a killer suit leaning against a flashy corvette, waiting to take her to dinner. _That jerk_ , she thought, smiling up at him as he asked if she was ready to go. She nodded and they walked over to the SUV; she was more than ready to leave the base for a bit. 

Sure enough, she had encountered none other than Lance Hunter as she left her bunk, buttoning her borrowed coat over her borrowed dress. Agent May, God love her, had been happy (okay, maybe not happy. Content? Willing? Accepting in a not-entirely-unreadable way?) to let Skye raid her undercover wardrobe for the night. She wasn’t trying to pull a _She’s All That_ makeover moment, honestly, but ever since becoming a field agent, Skye’s own closet became filled with clothes even more practical and comfortable than before. She couldn’t remember the last time she wore a dress, let alone one that wouldn’t look completely ridiculous at whatever upscale place Coulson was planning on taking her to (“As long as there is some form of pasta or other carb I can pronounce, I am happy, okay, AC?” She finally became exasperated when he wouldn’t quit asking where she wanted to go, would this place be okay, was there anything she was set against eating, etc.) 

And while Agent May was nothing if not practical, her closet full of undercover clothes was just plain glamorous. Skye believed that May hated undercover, since she was never the type to sugarcoat things, but when she went undercover, she went _hard._ If she wasn’t still slightly terrified of May (or at least terrified of losing her approval) Skye would ask if it was really necessary for her to wear an expensive fur coat that time in Italy, and don’t even get her started on the sparkly silver getup. Skye supposed if you were going to do something you hated, you might as well look killer doing it. After all, she had maxed out her own credit card buying that leather jacket on her mission to rescue Coulson, so maybe May was onto something. Either way, her options were expensive and _extensive,_ so she was able to find something perfect for the occasion. _Thank you Agent Melinda May, you secretly fabulous creature._

“Don’t you look nice,” Hunter said, his shit-eating grin not even attempting subtlety. “Romantic evening ahead of you, then?” Skye rolled her eyes, tying the forest green belt of the coat tightly, as if maybe he wouldn’t be able to see the fanciness of the outfit. “Your hair looks good, going for a little 'Brigitte Bardot' look with that?” At her annoyed, but curious face, Hunter went on the defensive. “You know I’m English, right? Cultured? I spent many a night in my formative years huddled over my computer, _researching_ classic beauties-” 

“Please stop, I do not need a full recap of the moment Lance Hunter discovered the side effects of puberty,” Skye grimaced, walking determinedly down the hall. Hunter followed, shocker.

“You do look nice though, suits you,” he said. That was perhaps the most irritating thing about Hunter; he’d follow up being a cad with something genuinely nice, if a bit awkward. He was caught between trying to be cool and wanting to be liked, and the earnestness struck a chord with her.

“Thanks, thought I would at least make an effort so Coulson can feel sufficiently _‘forgiven.’_ ” This time she let the air quotes fly free. “If he’s determined to make up for something he had literally no control over, I’ll at least humor him. The sooner he stops feeling guilty the better.”

Hunter nodded, looking again surprisingly thoughtful. “Not terribly surprising though, is it? He’s a pretty laced up, chivalrous guy, right? Not hard to believe that going bonkers and throwing someone he loves on the ground would upset him a bit.” Skye stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“I see what you did there, and I’m not responding to it.” She continued walking, finally--blissfully-- nearing the makeshift base garage where she was meeting Coulson. This time Hunter let her walk away, satisfied with himself.

“Alright then, have fun tonight. And take it easy on him, okay? He’s not as young as he used to be!”

His answer was a swift and confident middle finger raised over Skye’s head, not even a falter in her stride.

***

Coulson was unreasonably relieved as he helped Skye remove her coat and saw the outfit she had chosen to wear that night. May’s undeniably incredible dress from the recent undercover mission had been fresh in his mind when she mentioned Skye was borrowing something of hers for the night, and he was afraid if she chose a similar look he would simply have to walk out and never face her again. That would be the only way to go, considering the embarrassing alternatives. 

But Skye had chosen something safe (for his pride/their working relationship,) a simple matte black number with a high neckline and drop waist. The relief was somewhat short-lived however, when he turned to face her after handing off her coat and got the full effect. With the half-up, deliberately tousled hair and the simple black cat eye she had done, Skye looked straight out of a French film. If he were to be honest, Coulson would say that no matter what Skye looked like, whether it was with shimmery makeup and bouncy waves or bare-faced with her bangs slightly askew, he was pathetically smitten. But this? _Come on._

They sat across from each other, and he almost got up and walked out. Well, he would never actually do that to her, but the glow from the candlelight was not helping. _Stupid candles._

Skye, thankfully, seemed unaware of his internal struggles, glancing around the restaurant and taking in the details. He had chosen something high end but not too fancy, for fear of making her feel alienated. ( _Word choice, Phil._ ) He wasn’t an idiot, he knew Skye was observant and as worldly as she could have been, given the circumstances. She wasn’t going to read an Italian menu and marvel at all the words she didn’t understand or the high prices. She was smart, but given the fact that her trips to expensive restaurants were (he assumed) limited, he didn’t want her to feel outside of her element, or uncomfortable about him spending a lot of money on her. 

“Nice place,” she said, smiling, and he looked warmly at her in return. “I thought we were going to end up at an authentic Mexican taco stand or obscure restaurant in a cellar somewhere that makes amazing falafel or something, but this is...fancy.” 

Coulson looked at her seriously for a moment, and leaned in. “Where. Did you find. An authentic taco stand in this area?” Skye laughed, and he shook his head, still determined. “Is it nearby? There’s still time to get out of here, Skye.” 

Her grin got impossibly wider as she decided to play along, pointing at the menu. “No way, there’s carbonara on here, you’re going to have to roll me out. Now order some fancy wine I’ve never heard of and settle in, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He smiled. It was so easy. Just talking with her was impossibly simple and fun, even after the ordeal they had just gone through. Neither one was trying too much, laughing a bit too hard, making a few too many jokes to keep the mood from getting awkward. Once they were past the initial rituals, the ones that brought the question-- _What is this we’re doing?_ \-- to the forefront of his mind, it was just him and Skye. He really had missed her. 

Obeying her commands, he ordered a bottle of wine and got comfortable. Looking up from his menu after making his choice, he caught her staring at him. It was that face again. He had only seen it twice before, the first time after she had woken up after being injected with the GH-325. He had been there the moment she opened her eyes, and after the initial confusion and some quick tests from Simmons, they were alone again. 

She didn’t ask for a full explanation right away, and while he was sure the rest of the team was eager to see her, Coulson thought it would be best for her to have some time without the pressure and attention of the whole group. She seemed to appreciate it, because she simply sat back in her bed and gave him that look, content to silently look at him, almost as if memorizing his face. He was happy to do the same, until Simmons quietly announced that she had brought Skye some snacks and water.

The second look was by the motel pool, after their escape from the bus. Somehow it felt more raw, more exposed than before. It was a look he found himself returning, before chickening out and moving his gaze to the sky. 

He didn’t chicken out this time, looking into her eyes, suspecting she could see every little thought and emotion in his. It was like that, with her, but he decided he didn’t mind anymore. After she saw him completely lose control of himself, be taken over by something else, he was almost relieved that she was able to see _him._

“Skye.”

***

“You’re not going to apologize again, are you?” Part of her was joking, but mostly Skye was just worried. She didn’t know what was happening here, now with all the faces and the intense staring, but it felt like progress. And the last thing she wanted was for them to take a step back with his “I’m not worthy” routine. She wasn’t perfect and she wasn’t untouchable. In fact she was _very_ touchable, thank you very much. She had tried to make that much clear with her getup tonight, and call her cocky, but it seemed to have the desired effect. 

Coulson smiled slightly, caught. “No, I’m not going to apologize again.” Skye relaxed, slightly, but was still wary. This was his _serious discussion face,_ which could go very well or extremely wrong tonight. 

“Because this isn’t just me being accommodating and trying to make you feel better,” she couldn’t help but start in, feeling like as long as he didn’t say the next sentence on his mind, they were fine. Nothing would change. And even though some changes were good, and exciting and wanted, she was more afraid of the others. “I know that wasn’t you. I know. Because not only would you never put your hands on me,” ( _phrasing, Skye,_ ) “you wouldn’t leave me there. Not in that place.” She was brave now, staring him right in the eyes.

After the initial horror at being unable to stop Coulson from endangering himself and possibly others, at the chance he might do something he can’t go back from, or the possibility that _he wouldn’t come back_ , Skye’s surroundings set in. She was on the other side of the wall, where _he_ had been standing before. Where he had been for months, tormenting her and the rest of the team, no doubt planning, _training_ for his escape. 

Coming back to the moment at hand, Skye noticed her mistake. This hadn’t been a factor he considered, or at least one he had forgotten about. “See? If you could look at yourself right now, you would say ‘holy crap, that guy would never, ever want to do something like that,’ seriously Coulson.” He looked at the table now, and she inwardly cursed. “I mean, honestly, do you want to know what the worst part was?”

Coulson looked up now, ready to pile some more guilt on himself with the nitty gritty details. _He’s bracing himself._

“It smelled disgusting in there,” Skye told him solemnly, silently cheering when she saw his expression become less _'I feel horrible,'_ and more _'Really? Are you kidding me with this?'_ “I mean, really AC. I know he’s psychotic and dangerous, but were you so determined to keep him locked up you couldn’t toss him a Speed Stick once in a while?” This earned her a smile, which quickly hid itself behind annoyance, but it was too late. She had seen it. 

“So, did you decide yet?” Skye asked. At his confused expression, she held back an eye roll. “What are you going to get?” Comprehension dawned on his face, and he didn’t look too embarrassed. 

“I think I might try something new,” he said, looking in her eyes and clearly immediately regretting it. She couldn’t help it, she laughed, as he shielded his face with a hand over his eyes. “Oh god.”

“That was a _line,_ ” Skye practically crowed. “Mr. Smooth Moves and Tailored Suits, resorting to a line. Amazing.” 

“Please stop talking.”

She decided to be merciful. _For now._

***

He considers it a blessing that his slip up wasn’t as horribly awkward as it could have been. _I might try something new, Jesus._ Just thinking about it made his face burn with embarrassment. _But she didn’t reject it._ Sure, she mocked him a bit, but she wasn’t being cruel and clearly she wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of him flirting with her. (Which, by now, was fairly obvious if he examined their past conversations. For his own sanity, he had tried to avoid doing that.)

The rest of the meal went well, after they slipped back into their comfort zone. For them, it was simply talking. About anything. They even had talked about Ward, albeit briefly, since neither wanted to spend time on that particular topic. Coulson came upon the scene in his office right after the call, not realizing Skye’s mood at first given the other elements. Skye, still in her pajamas, having made herself comfortable. Bill Withers on the record player, a big change from the loud big band music she had heard him playing what felt like decades before. Her coffee on his desk, in a SHIELD mug, of course. The domesticity of it had nearly floored him, until he saw her face and realized something had gone wrong. 

“ _Personal,_ so he’s definitely going after his brother then?” They sat across from each other, trying to be detached and analyze the call instead of panicking about Ward so easily contacting them. Coulson had cursed himself again, somehow Ward kept snaking his way into Skye’s life and he was unable to stop it. But she did well, reciting as close to verbatim as she could the words he said, trying to pick out details about his location and mindset. 

“Are we going after him?” She asked, “It sounds like he’s definitely going to kill his brother. I know we're not fond of Senator Dirtbag either, but we can’t knowingly let Ward kill him.” Skye sounded so resolute, even if he had considered letting the Wards self destruct (a thought that a part of him, albeit a very small and rash part, had entertained briefly,) he felt like he should start planning the op that very second. 

But they didn’t let that take up too much of their conversation, trying keep a semblance of levity at the table. Now they walked to the SUV, warmed from the chill with full stomachs and just the right amount of wine for him to be relaxed but absolutely lucid and her to be slightly and giggly but not too tipsy. She bumped his shoulder amiably and he smiled. “I am going to dream about that pasta every time we order in, you know that right?” 

“I’ve made carbonara before, I can show you if you want,” he tried to slip it in casually, but aware of the fact that he was bragging about his cooking skills. And making it clear he wasn’t going to shut himself away in his office again. 

“Oh my god, we get it Phil you’re a master chef,” she laughed, and her use of his first name literally made him stop in his tracks. Noticing his reaction Skye turned around to face him. “I’m kidding Coulson, you can totally teach me how to cook, I’m not trying to-” She stopped, and he could practically see her backtracking in her mind. When she landed on what had caused him to halt, she smiled hesitantly and shrugged. “To be fair, you say my name all the time, and I don’t even have another one to fall back on.” 

Coulson, as utterly charmed by her as ever, smiled and simply looped his arm through hers and continued walking to the car. “So wait, does that mean, _‘Okay Skye, you can call me Phil whenever you want,’_ ” Coulson chuckled at the deep “dude” voice she took on--that sounded _nothing_ like him-- egging her on. “Or is it, _‘I will humor you for now Skye, but when we reach the Playground you are under strict orders to only refer to me as the All Powerful and Mighty Director Agent Coulson Sir-”_

It didn’t take long for ‘charmed’ to turn into full on swooning, so Phil was probably more surprised than he should have been when he pulled Skye into him and was suddenly kissing her. And yet, there they were. Leaning forward onto the SUV he moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face, trying to tone down his somewhat heavy enthusiasm. Pulling back slightly he noted her disappointed face with no small amount of amusement. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you there,” he smiled, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah,” Skye murmured, grabbing his tie and pulling him back toward her. Her voice was a whisper over his lips as he closed his eyes. “So rude.”


End file.
